


By chance, by choice

by j7j



Category: Otoyomegatari | The Bride's Stories
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j7j/pseuds/j7j
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night, a day, and a night in the marriage of Karluk and Amir.  In which Tileke gets bedroom advice from Amir, Karluk gets parenting advice from his dad, and nothing sad (or anything of consequence really) happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By chance, by choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pts/gifts).



\---

Once while they're having a particularly energetic coupling and Amir's inner thighs are already damp with sweat and seed, Karluk clasps their hands together and marvels at how he is finally, after six years, tall enough to kiss the soft spot behind her ear while hearing the press of flesh against flesh. The sweet sounds his wife will make, twisting her head this way and that, how she will almost thrash her hand out of his grip, then hold on all the tighter, locking her legs about his midsection and pulling him close.

This isn't their first time, by a long shot.

But this time, this time...

It's in the glint of the candlelight painting the edge of her face in a golden hue; it's in how she arches her back up to meet him, eyes sparkling and hands free to loop about his neck. She's bringing him in for a kiss on the forehead, a kiss on the cheek, and then a kiss on the lips. He wonders if she knows that he often thinks back to how they acted towards one another when they were first married. How it wasn't anything unpleasant, just that _now_ is so much better.

He kisses her, his wonderful heaven-sent wife, back with a fervency that's never too far to be forgotten. How many times they had almost lost one another flood back into his mind. Amir moans into his mouth, eyes fluttering past the brink of climax, and he reaches the same peak for the second time that night.

Afterwards, he always pulls out of her and they swab themselves and each other with a clean scrap of cloth. Conversation is soft but comes naturally, on how Seleke has been asking Amir for a visit tomorrow, on how Tokcan will be courting the second girl in two months, on how Pariya is expecting her third child.

A child.

The thought makes Karluk's chest clench up, as if his heart is about to spill over from every exit in his body. Judging by Amir's expression in the dim lighting, she feels something similar. He searches his eighteen-year-old mind for the right words. More than anything, he wants to keep that expression from her face, wants to say that he did not, that he would not, that he could _never_ \--

But she takes the lead, as she did two years ago, and six years before that, blowing out the light and kissing him on the cheek. The squeeze on his hand and the twining of their still-warm legs is reassuring, certainly, and Amir makes it easy for him to sink back into the familiarity that is half a decade of marriage. The need to say _something_ weighs heavily on his chest though, even as he's shutting his eyes and falling under the lull of exhaustion.

\---

The next morning, when they're dressing, Karluk realizes that though his body has grown significantly, he still has a bit of maturing to do. And again, he's at a lost for words when Amir is pulling on her summer coat and rebraiding her hair.

"I--," he starts, immediately fumbling, "I'll see you later!"

Amir is doubtlessly chuckling; she's made no secret of the fact she finds her husband adorable at times, and his face is bright red as he's sprinting to the town hall.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he cringes, stopping and straightening himself out twenty pace later to turn back and wave good-bye. Yusuf has been coaching him for years on the art of being a good husband though most of it goes over his head. But his brother-in-law makes his sister so happy and --

\---

"Well of course Yusuf would be happy," one of his fellow men say, "Seleke gave him sons. Three splendid sons, if even half the tales about your nephews have a grain of truth!"

"Hey, hey, it's the other way around isn't it?" another chimes in, "That outsider brat gave our Seleke three fine sons and one beautiful headstrong daughter -- may her children have their mother's head!"

"Well either way, there are children."

"Yes, children make the women so happy."

"Oh ho! Have you seen yourself talking to your own kin? You're the largest fool of a father there ever was!"

Someone chucks a piece of stale bread and there's a light tugging of beards. Karluk scratches at his own clean-shaven cheek, wondering. When he first found out he was going to be married at age twelve to a twenty-year-old woman from a tribe of nomads, everyone had whispered amongst themselves about the barbaric ways of the people who didn't settle down. And then the veil and been lifted and he had seen _Amir_ for the first time and that had been the end of it. That people can joke about her, about them, even matters like this when men years younger than him and women a decade younger than Amir have already been made parents...

It's heartening, actually. How well she's integrated with the community. He laughs a bit too, wondering if his eyes will eventually crinkle at the edges like the "largest fool of a father" and what his children will be like. Doubtlessly Amir is over at his sister's place where they are discussing Tileke's upcoming engagement. Perhaps his niece will have children before him -- now there's a thought!

\---

Indeed, Amir is over at Seleke's and the two of them are fussing over Tileke. Beautiful, headstrong Tileke who has managed to catch the eye of a man from a neighboring village. They braid and rebraid her hair and Seleke gives up on correcting her daughter's needlework. As Amir points out, some things just weren't meant to be fixed (and Seleke can redo the stiches later). There's a bit of banter about Amir finally giving Seleke the title of aunt now that even Rostam is looking at women, and swerves violently into bedroom antics.

"A man can lick you down _there_?!" Tileke shrieks.

"Not just lick," Seleke replies, "He can use his fingers, his teeth, his lips..."

"Sometimes two at once," Amir helpfully offers.

"What?!"

"It makes you feel _so_ good too," Seleke sighs, cheeks coloring. Her daughter's cheeks color too, for an entirely different reason, "And of course we must be properly thankful. So when your husband does that to you and you like it, what do you do after?"

"I'm sure _I_ won't like it," Tileke sniffs.

"That's what I thought too!" Amir giggles, pinching her niece's nose, "But when you have your husband just breathing against your -- "

"Stop, stop, stop!" the youngest of the three covers her cheeks for shame.

"But if you _do_ like something that your husband does in the bedroom, how do you thank him for it?" Seleke presses.

"I... I'll cook him a really good meal!"

Tileke's response causes both mother and aunt to burst into laughter.

"Oh dear Tileke," Amir starts, "while I'm sure your husband will appreciate the food..."

"It's important to remember that favors that are received inside the bedroom must likewise be _returned_ in the bedroom," Seleke completes.

"Do we really have to talk about this...!"

"Well, you _are_ about to be married, so I would hope you know this sort of stuff."

"Mother, please, it's so embarrassing!"

"Would you prefer talking about it with your aunt? I can give you some alone time if -- "

"What! No!" Tileke's cheeks are fully red at this point, "I can't -- that's not -- I don't want to think of uncle and father like that!"

Instead of sympathy, her mother and aunt exchange knowing glances once more before falling into peals of laughter yet again.

\---

Karluk takes afternoon tea with his father and mother who are both excited at the prospect of becoming great grandparents soon. With his parents, he is put at ease. There is the normal jest of treating Amir with a bit more assertiveness and of course the question of racing horses (Karluk is now just a couple seconds behind), but no actual pressure.

Right as he's leaving, loaded with enough leftover food for tonight's dinner and then some, his father takes him aside and, in a few words, tells him how long the two of them waited to conceive _him_. Two years of trying is nothing in the long run and apparently his own mother was close to Amir's age when he himself was born.

And then Karluk realizes: there was never any weight on his shoulders and he is eighteen years old at the end of the day. He smiles and thanks his father, bidding his mother good-bye, and he heads home with a quirk on the edges of his lips. He wants to see Amir, he wants to make love to her while taking the lead and he wants to talk with her through the night like they did when they were newlyweds.

He breaks into a sprint then and there, paying little heed to the food bundled up in his arms. He pulls back the curtain to their shared bedroom and is greeted with his wife in the middle of stitching on the left wings of a falcon.

"Amir!" he greets, throwing his arms around her and rolling both of them to the futon, "I love you."

Her eyes widen for a moment before they soften and crinkle at the edges and she kisses him anew. "And I, you."

It's just like two years ago when he had been overwhelmed by his urges and Amir had enthusiastically responded to his touches. Where they had rutted like rabbits into the night, their tongues and fingers tangled in every which way and breathy giggles interrupted with sighs of pleasure. His palm had scrabbled against the side of her breast, thumbs teasing the absolutely edge of her nipple, and then she had taken him into her mouth and he remembered the feeling of figuratively -- and then literally -- overflowing.

Except now they're much more experienced and he knows the contours of her body almost as well as his own. Perhaps even moreso, looking back to how often he needs to stop himself from thinking about _this_. She clutches at his hair while his cheeks are cushioned by her thighs and he wonders if it feels as good for her when he is the one receiving. His tongue continues to lap against her even after the initial tremor and she moans his name, low and loud like a prayer, and strokes his cheek with the back of her hand.

He comes inside her twice again, both times with her on top, gently rutting him into the soft cushions and this, he realizes, is what he loves the most about her, about them. Saying so as much makes her eyes soften yet again and she's the one laving her tongue against the inner ridge of his ear, saying all the things he spent all day trying to say.

It takes them ten more tries and then a handful dozen after that, but Seleke _does_ manage to become an aunt before she becomes a grandmother.


End file.
